


Five Times Whizzer Listened To Jason's Voicemail Message

by Lolapola



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: A little bit of fluff, Angst, Canonical character death (offscreen and implied), Discussion of canonical domestic abuse (not explicit), Do the kids still do 5+1 fics?, Gen, Good Parent Whizzer Brown, Marvin makes a very small appearance, Multi, Only mentions of Trina/Mendel and The Lesbians, They do now, but know that I love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22806145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolapola/pseuds/Lolapola
Summary: And one time he didn't.A look at the development of Whizzer and Jason's relationship and how they fit into each other's lives. Some happy, some sad, some in between.Because I'm a fandom elder who unironically loves 5+1 fics.
Relationships: Dr. Charlotte/Cordelia (Mentioned), Trina/Mendel Weisenbachfeld (Mentioned), Whizzer Brown/Marvin (mentioned)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 65





	Five Times Whizzer Listened To Jason's Voicemail Message

**Author's Note:**

> I love a missing scene, so this came from wanting to see how Whizzer reacted to finding out about certain events in the show that he wasn't around for, and grew from there.  
> I thought of the idea and got really excited about it before I remembered when Falsettos is set, so this is set in a weird alternate timeline where everything is exactly the same, except cell phones were invented 20 years earlier. Please allow me a little artistic licence in that regard ;) 
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not Jewish or American, so any inaccuracies in this fic are down to that. Also, you'd be suprised how US-centric baseball is, so if I've said something that makes you say "That's not how Little League works" aloud, that's why. 
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!

Whizzer stumbled out of the nightclub into the quiet back alley and leant heavily against the wall, drawing the cool night air deep into his lungs and letting it clear his head. The door swung shut behind him, muffling the heavy beat of the music inside. He breathed deeply a few more times, feeling his sweat cool on his skin and his heartbeat slow, feeling oddly at peace for the first time in hours. He wasn’t even that drunk tonight, existing in a weird no man’s land where he wasn’t mad enough at Marvin to have sex with the first hot guy he saw, but sick enough of his whole situation to not want to go home.

It was all too easy to storm out of the house after a huge fight and return in the early hours of the morning smelling of cologne and booze, just for the thrill of watching Marvin’s eye twitch while he pretended not to notice or care. But today he’d left before Marvin had even got home from work, and the anger and spite wasn’t quite fresh enough to fuel him. 

He’d only officially moved in with them for a month – ‘them’ being his lover and his lover’s wife and their 9 year old son and Jesus, he’d got himself into some real situations in the past but this really took the cake – but despite what Marvin thought, he wasn’t an idiot, and he could see where this was going. It had been less than a week before Marvin had started dumping a pile of laundry at Whizzer’s feet in the mornings, and that had been quickly followed by Marvin hinting at the state of the house, Marvin handing him coupons, Marvin expecting a drink in his hand when he arrived in the evening– and then this morning. Marvin sweeping out the door to work, calling to Whizzer, “I’ll be back around 6, could you maybe _try_ to have dinner ready by then?” 

Well, fuck that. Whizzer wasn’t a 40’s housewife. He wasn’t anyone’s housewife. See what Marvin thought when he arrived home and Whizzer wasn’t even there. He felt a twinge of pity for Trina, who would inevitably pick up the slack, like she always did. But Trina _was_ a housewife, he reasoned, and she always looked so lost when he actually did do things around the house that he thought maybe getting out of her hair was the best thing for her. 

He sighed, letting his head knock back against the wall. Sometimes he forgot how extremely messy this thing he’d become involved in was. He pulled his phone out to check the time, feeling mild surprise when he realised he had a missed call. Marvin was way too proud to have called him. Marvin would rather pretend he hadn’t even noticed Whizzer’s absence than call him. 

There was a new voicemail as well. Huh. Marvin had _never_ left him a voicemail. He wanted to listen to it, out of genuine curiosity and a hint of nervousness, because maybe Marvin had finally got sick of this whole thing, and this voicemail was to tell him that his things were packed and on the porch and Marvin never wanted to see him again.  
Whizzer scowled. 

“His loss,” he muttered to himself, punching the voicemail number in defiantly. If that was how Marvin wanted to end things, fine. Whizzer gave it a week before he came crawling back.  
He put the phone to his ear and bowed his head to listen, moving further away from the nightclub door to hear better. 

“You have – 1 – new message. To listen to this message, press 2 -” the voice said, and Whizzer pressed 2 impatiently. If he needed somewhere else to stay tonight, the sooner he knew the better.  
There was a pause, which made Whizzer’s heart lift and drop simultaneously. Had he completely misread this? Was Marvin finally, finally calling to apologise, to –

“Hi Whizzer, it’s – it’s Jason.” 

A tiny, unsure-sounding voice. Whizzer stopped dead. _Jason?_

“Jason Blumenfeld,” the voice added, and Whizzer nearly laughed aloud. As if to differentiate from all the other children called Jason that rang him.

He hadn’t even known Jason knew his number. _Jason, really?_ He spoke to the kid literally only when it was completely necessary. He’d never really liked kids, didn’t know how to talk to them. And Marvin’s kid, well. He was intense. Smarter and funnier than most adults he knew, and scathingly honest. Plus, Whizzer felt something dangerously close to guilt every time he looked at him, and was something he refused to feel. Marvin had been in the closet for nearly 20 years when they’d met – if it hadn’t been Whizzer, it would’ve been someone else. 

So he’d kept his distance. And Jason had seemed to be doing the same, until now. He frowned, covering his other ear to listen to the rest of the message. 

“Dad gave me your number in case of emergencies,” Jason continued, and Whizzer refused point blank to feel touched. That statement made him feel nothing. Zero feelings. 

“I, uh… I don’t know where you are, but…” Jason huffed, seemingly frustrated with himself. Whizzer hid a smile. 

“I want you to come home, please. Dad’s being…well, he’s being kind of a prick,” and Whizzer _did_ laugh aloud at that, “And Mom’s getting all upset, and it’s just – the whole thing is very noisy and annoying.”

Whizzer sighed. He wondered if he was that obvious when he was pretending to be irritated to cover being upset. 

“Dad’s better when you’re home. He’s less obnoxious, anyway. Or he’s too busy fighting with you to bother me and Mom. And I know I’m just a kid and this isn’t really my business but you guys are _making_ it my business, so – yeah. Just come back home, as soon as possible. Please. Bye.”

The line went dead. Whizzer stared at his phone for a minute, equal parts mystified and amused. He envied that childlike selfishness – Dad’s making my life miserable, will you come home so he can make your life miserable instead? If Whizzer was allowed to be that selfish, his answer would’ve been hell no. But as a former lonely little kid, he could spot one a mile off, and Jason was lonely enough to call up his father’s gay lover, a man he should hate, for back up. Jason was weird, at an age where it’s not cool or interesting to be weird. Jason needed a friend.

Whizzer sighed again, shoving his phone into his pocket and heading for the main street. He’d got himself involved in this very messy situation, whether he should’ve or not. And Jason hadn’t asked for any of this. It wasn’t Whizzer’s fault, he maintained that, but it wasn’t Jason’s either. If there was one thing he was good at, it was fighting with Marvin. He _liked_ fighting with Marvin. And if that helped Jason cope with his life crumbling apart, if it made things even a little easier for him, then he could do that for the kid. He would. 

He held out a hand to hail a cab. Time to go home.

* * *

When Whizzer woke up and checked his phone to find another missed call, his first instinct was to immediately go back to sleep. Although, to be fair, that had been his first instinct to everything for the past few weeks. No, he wasn’t sulking or moping. Calling Marvin’s bluff and getting the hell out of Dodge was the best decision he’d made in years. But it did mean he felt a little…adrift. He’d gotten used to a routine, that was all. 

He checked the call log, only a little surprised when he saw it was from Jason. Jason had called him a few times in the days after he’d left Marvin’s for good. Probably because, if he had to guess, Marvin would have refused point blank to tell him where Whizzer had gone or why. Poor kid. 

Whizzer had never returned the calls. It hurt, a hell of a lot. He loved that kid. But what was he supposed to tell him? ‘Your dad, top tier asshole that he is, literally broke up with me over a game of chess and kicked me out on my ass, sorry you have to keep living with him but good luck with that’? A clean break was just easier for them both. Jason was young and resilient, he’d recover. And sure enough, the calls had stopped after a week, and Jason had never left a voicemail. 

Until now. 

Whizzer stared at the notification for a moment, wrestling with his thoughts. It wouldn’t hurt to just listen, would it? Just to see how the kid was doing. He snorted at himself, dialling the number. He’d clearly picked up some stellar self-delusion techniques from Marvin and Trina. 

“Hey, Whizzer. It’s Jason.” 

Jason’s voice was so quiet and uncertain, Whizzer thought for a minute that he’d accidentally opened the first ever voicemail he’d left him. (Not that he’d kept it, shut up.)

“Um… I don’t… I don’t know where you are, or, or if you’ll get this, but…” 

Jason trailed off, his voice catching in a way that made Whizzer sit bolt upright, heart pounding. He had _never_ heard Jason sound like this. 

“I wanted to talk to you. I hope you’re okay. I just wanted to -”

Jason stopped again, and Whizzer held the phone so tight against his head it hurt, his mind filling with worst case scenarios. When Jason spoke again, his voice was smaller than he’d ever heard it, but the words rang in Whizzer’s head like they’d been screamed at him. 

“Dad hit Mom.”

' _No he didn’t_ , ' Whizzer thought, wildly, desperately. He wouldn’t. Marvin would never. Jason must have misunderstood, or misread something, or misheard a conversation – Jason _had_ to be mistaken. Jason, the smartest person he knew. 

Marvin was a million and one things, and about three of them complimentary, but he wasn’t someone who would hit his ex-wife. Whizzer _knew_ that man, knew him more than maybe anyone ever had, and he knew that Marvin _loved_ Trina, in his own way. Coldly and selfishly.

He registered suddenly that Jason was talking again, and forced himself to listen. 

“He came round and he – Mom and Mr. Mendel sent him a wedding invitation, I think, and he came round and he was yelling, he was so mad, he was yelling all this stuff, and then he – he hit the wall, and Mom was trying to calm him down but he was _drunk_ , Whizzer, and he -”

With a sinking, sickening feeling, Whizzer listened to the detail in Jason’s story, the horror and fear in his voice, and he realised. Marvin had done this _in front of his son_.

There’d been a voice in his head, screaming at him ever since Whizzer had started to pack his things into that suitcase Marvin had thrown at him. _‘Don’t do this, don’t leave him, stay, go back, go back to him, don’t do this, I love him, I love him, I love him-’_

For the first time in weeks, that voice had gone silent. 

For the first time ever, Whizzer felt genuine hatred for Marvin. He’d felt a lot of things towards that man, but never hatred. Not till now. 

_How could he do this?_

He realised with a jolt that Jason was still talking, calmer now he’d got it out, but still subdued. In shock. 

“…because he was crying and Mom was crying and so – so he left. And Mr. Mendel tried to talk to me about it because Mom was too upset to but I didn’t want to talk to him. I just wanted to talk to you. I’m not stupid, I know you and Dad aren’t together any more, but I just thought…we’re still friends, right? I miss you. None of my stupid friends understand this stuff. I know you do. Will you call me? Please?”

There was another pause and a sniff, and Whizzer glanced at the clock. Jason would be coming out of school soon. He had time to get there. 

“I hope you get this. Bye, Whizzer.”

Whizzer threw the phone down and leapt to his feet, pulling his clothes on faster than he had for weeks. Screw the clean break. Jason needed a semi-stable adult in his life that wasn’t embroiled in this mess, and somehow, for better or worse, that had become him. Maybe Marvin or Trina or both would eventually find out and put a stop to it, but until then, Whizzer intended to be the best goddamn friend to Jason he could be.

* * *

“Hi, Whizzer! It’s Jason!”

Whizzer grinned to himself as he walked down the street. There was very little nowadays that cheered him up like finding he had a voicemail from Jason. It happened less often now, as the dust settled after the messy events two years ago, and as Jason grew closer to his parents and to Mendel. Whizzer didn’t mind too much – he had his own life, sorta, and the less he heard from Jason, the happier the kid was, generally speaking. But it still warmed his heart to hear his excitable voice from time to time. 

“Guess what! My baseball team got through to the finals! I really don’t know how, we’re awful, but we got through! And it’s this Saturday, the finals, will you come Whizzer, _please_?”

Whizzer groaned to himself. It wasn’t the first time Jason had invited him to some kind of family event, but it had been a while, and it was the first time Whizzer found himself considering it. In the past it had been too soon after everything, too raw, and he’d easily come up with excuses, knowing that his presence would arguments and hurt feelings all over the place. _And you couldn’t handle seeing Marvin again_ , a cruel voice in his head reminded him. 

But now – it had been two years, surely that was long enough? And he loved baseball, it actually made sense for him to go this time, right? He wouldn’t be out of place like he would at a chess tournament or something. 

“Let me know if you can come, okay, I need someone there who actually knows something about baseball – well, apart from the lesbians, I guess, but they’re girls, they don’t count.”

Whizzer laughed. ‘The lesbians’, as Jason referred to them (presumably they had names, but he hadn’t heard any yet), had started to make their way into Jason’s anecdotes about a year ago, and he had to admit to being curious to meet them. From what he could glean, they were friends of Marvin’s, which – well. Good for him. The deeply closeted man he’d met three years ago wouldn’t even have considered being casual friends with a lesbian couple, lest rumors start going round about _him_. Hopefully they were some kind of good influence on him. 

“Plus I need to ask you for advice about which girls to invite to my bah mitzvah. I know, I know, you’re probably not the person to ask for girl advice, but you’re cooler than my parents and Mendel, so I wanna ask anyway.”

Whizzer did not feel a puff of pride at being called cool by a twelve year old. He did not. _Not even cool, Brown, just cooler-than-my-parents, pull yourself together._

He sighed, forcing himself to review the situation. Jason hadn’t even mentioned that Whizzer turning up out of the blue at a Little League game might cause problems, which he was happy about. Jason should be able to do that – he should be able to worry about girls and baseball and not whether inviting the wrong person would cause his entire life to fall apart all over again. Did that mean things were stable enough for him to come? Or should he stay away, now the kid was finally living a something-approaching-normal life? 

“I gotta go, Whizzer, I’m nearly home – call me back, and please come on Saturday, okay? And, uh -”

He hesitated uncharacteristically, then:

“I think my dad would like to see you. He’s nicer now, y’know? Like – kinda more chill. But he seems sorta sad too. I think he misses you. Talk to you soon, Whizzer, bye!”

Way to drop a bombshell on me and then split, kid, jeez, thought Whizzer. 

Marvin misses him. Marvin misses him? Does he, or does Jason want him to? And if he does, do they want to open that can of worms again? 

This was the first time Jason had said outright that Marvin had changed, but he’d picked it up from the way Jason talked about him over time. But just because he was nicer around Jason now didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean they’d work any more than they used to. Did it? 

“Jesus,” Whizzer muttered aloud as he unlocked the door to his apartment building. It had been two years, when the hell was he going to get over this?

He couldn’t let Jason down, he decided. That much was for sure. He’d go, and he’d support Jason, and he didn’t give a shit whether Marvin would be there or not. He didn’t, he didn’t, he didn’t. 

Jesus.

* * *

Whizzer closed his apartment door and leant against it, trying really really hard not to feel like a 16 year old on prom night. His heart was not fluttering in his chest and he did not have butterflies. He took a deep breath and pushed off the door, only to catch sight of his own stupid smiling face in the mirror. 

“Oh my _god_ , get a grip!” he told himself. This was stupid. It had been one date, one coffee, he couldn’t be falling apart already. 

But that one coffee had felt more special than a year long relationship ever had. Jesus, Jason had mentioned that his dad had changed like it was a vague, sometimes-he-actually-apologises-and-he-works-less thing, not the total personality overhaul he’d been faced with, a little at the basketball game and but even more over coffee. He hadn’t been prepared. He was almost offended.

That is – it was still _Marvin_. He was still a little childish and teasing, still sarcastic as hell, he still liked to show off how clever he was – but it was all different. Softer. When he made fun of Whizzer, it felt affectionate, not snide. He laughed when Whizzer hit back instead of rolling his eyes, and when they bickered he would glance over often, as if to say ‘ _Is this okay? Did I go too far?_ ’ 

He’d offered to pay for Whizzer’s coffee but hadn’t insisted. He’d listened to what Whizzer was doing with his photography work and asked questions. He’d used the phrase, “That’s amazing, I didn’t know that,” without an ounce of sarcasm. Whizzer was almost embarrassed at how little it was taking to draw him back in. And like some kind of magic spell, the softness spilled over into Whizzer as well. It wasn’t _fun_ to poke at Marvin’s insecurities and to offhandedly mention his many affairs when Marvin was gazing at him like he’d hung the stars. 

Was this what people meant, he wondered, when they said their partners brought out the best in them? He’d always taken that for romcom schmaltz – but here they were. Living proof.

 _Take it slow, Whizzer_ , he told himself. It was easy to put your best version of yourself forward on a first date, everyone did it. For all he knew it would only be a matter of time before their respective monsters came back out of the box, and wouldn’t _that_ be a fun reality check. 

He sighed and sat down heavily, realising as he did that his phone had run out of battery at some point. He plugged it in and waited for it to turn back on, trying to stop himself from wondering when was too soon to call Marvin and ask to see him again. 

His phone beeped, and he glanced over. One missed call and one voicemail. He frowned – then laughed. Of course. He should’ve seen this coming.

“Hey Whizzer, it’s Jason. Dad wanted me to call and make sure you got home okay,” Jason’s voice chirped, and Whizzer tried to clamp down on the fond smile that was fighting its way onto his face. Marvin used to not give a shit if Whizzer was stumbling around illegal gay bars at 4am, and now he wants to make sure Whizzer got home from a coffee shop in broad daylight? 

“You are laying it on thick, Marv,” he said to his empty apartment. 

“…and _I_ wanted to see how it went today,” Jason continued in a conspiratorial whisper, “Although… I think I can kinda guess.” 

There was a shuffling on the end as if Jason was carrying the phone somewhere – and then Marvin’s voice, tinny and far away, made it through the speaker. Specifically, Marvin’s voice _singing_. 

Whizzer barked a surprised laugh in unison with the sound of Jason’s disgusted sigh as he came back on the line, Marvin’s singing fading away again. 

“He’s all happy, it’s _gross_ ,” said Jason, and Whizzer could hear Jason’s smile. 

“Anyway, call me when you get this so we know you’re home, but not too late because the lesbians are coming round for dinner. I think they want to ‘debrief’ or something, which I’ll probably get sent out the room for.” 

Whizzer chuckled at the audible eye rolling. 

“Also, I, uh -” Jason paused, and Whizzer sat up, knowing by now that Jason had something important he wanted to say. 

“Listen, I know my dad was an asshole when you guys were together. Truth be told, he’s still sometimes an asshole now. But he’s still my dad, and he is different now, I swear. And Mendel says he was going through a lot of stuff back then, or whatever. Just – if you guys get back together, be nice to him? The lesbians are nice to him, and it makes him nice, I guess. I think he needs that sometimes. I don’t know. I want him to be nice to you too, obviously, but – don’t tell him I said this – I think you’re sorta more grown up than he is.”

Whizzer laughed again, and took a moment to be thankful there was no one around to hear how watery it was. 

“So you have to be nice first, okay? Even if you don’t wanna see him again. I hope you do, though. Then you have to listen to his dumb singing as well. Okay, I’ll speak to you later. Bye!”

Jason hung up, and Whizzer swatted crossly at his damp eyes, staring down at the phone. 

“I was kind of an asshole, too, Jason,” he told the phone, because God knows he probably would never be able to bring himself to tell him in person. Somewhere during that voicemail, he’d realised that he would literally rather die than disappoint that kid. 

“Guess I’ll just have to be nice to your dad, then, won’t I?” he said, and dialled Marvin’s number.

* * *

“Whizzer, answer your phone, it’s me!” 

Whizzer grinned automatically at the sound of Jason’s voice as he juggled his groceries around into a more stable position and simultaneously tried not to fall up the subway stairs, phone clamped between his ear and his shoulder. 

“No, I got his voicemail,” Jason was saying to someone in the background, “Ye- I _am_ , Dad, let me _finish_ – sorry about that, Whizzer, _someone_ is interfering in my private phone call.”

The muffled squawk of indignation that comment warranted from Marvin managed to distract Whizzer so much he nearly tripped over a fire hydrant, much to amusement of everyone around him. He found he didn’t care. 

“Anyway, Dad said I had to call you because baseball practice got cancelled, and Mom and Mendel are busy and couldn’t come get me, so Dad’s here and I wanna have a movie night only he said you and him were supposed to be playing racquetball so he said I had to call you and ask if you didn’t mind cancelling even though it isn’t _my_ fault practice got cancelled, is it -”

There was a squeal and a fit of giggling from down the phone, and a shout of, “ _D-a-d_ , I nearly dropped the _phone_ -”, and Marvin’s laughing voice, louder now, saying, “This is the worst apology I’ve ever heard, Jason -”, and Whizzer was smiling so hard that his cheeks actually ached. He imagined Marvin lunging to swat at the back of Jason's head, Jason twisting away, desperate to maintain his cool –

This was what happiness was, he was pretty sure. When plans you’d been looking forward to all day got cancelled but it didn’t matter because they’d been replaced with even better plans, and a recording  
of two people’s voices made you forget that you were tired and your arms hurt and the streets were too crowded. All of it faded away when he listened to them laughing, and Jesus, _when_ did he turn into such a sap? Whizzer was fairly sure he’d have found that embarrassing, a year ago. Now, he couldn’t really find it in himself to care. Better a happy sap than a miserable cool guy. 

“So we’ll see you at home, Whizzer, and if you really are bummed about missing racquetball, Dad says he’s bought your favourite ice cream so – I am _not_ , Dad – Dad says I’m breaking your heart because you love racquetball more than you love both of us put together, which isn’t true, I know you love me more. Maybe not Dad, though.”

There was another boom of laughter from Marvin, and Whizzer could just about make out his reply:

“True, but _baseball_ , though…”

“Hmm,” said Jason thoughtfully, “Good point. Whizzer, Dad thinks you probably love baseball the most. Think about it and get back to us, we won’t be offended. Anyway, you _have_ to come home as soon as you can so that we can make sure we watch a good movie tonight. If you don’t get here soon Dad’s gonna pick, like, The Sound of Music or something and I – oh my God.”

Jason’s voice dropped in disgust.

“Whizzer. Whizzer, he’s dancing. He’s _dancing_. And _singing_ , oh my God, come home _now_ -”

There was another squeal, and another peal of laughter, and the line went dead.

Whizzer actually had to stop in the middle of the street, holding the phone tight to his chest. He felt like the Grinch in that Dr. Seuss book he’d read as a kid, his heart swelling and expanding until it felt like it might burst. 

He looked to the end of the street, to a tall, nondescript apartment building, and a window on the fourth floor. He was too far away to see any details, but just looking at that window made him smile. 

_Home_.

Whizzer hefted the bag of groceries back up onto his hip and pocketed his phone, starting off again in that direction. As he walked, he found his mind churning, stuck on one question: how the hell did he get so lucky?

* * *

+1.

“Hi, Whizzer. I, uh… I’ve been trying not to do this. I don’t know if it’ll help. It kinda feels like you’ll actually call me back, this way, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe I should ask Mendel. Um… I miss you. You probably know that. And… and Dad misses you. You definitely know that. Especially today.”

A sigh. A long pause.

“Happy birthday, Whizzer. Dad won’t say it, but I wanted to. You never missed mine, even when you weren’t around. I just wanted to say, if you’re worried, Dad’s doing okay. I didn’t see him much, after… after. Mom said he needed a bit of time, but now I’m back to going to stay with him every weekend again. It’s fun. It’s quiet, without you, but I like it. And we go see the lesbians sometimes. They help Dad a lot, I think. He spends a lot of time with Charlotte, now. I don’t mind because then I get to hang out with Cordelia, and we cook together, which Dad says should be illegal, but it’s still fun. Him and Charlotte always look kinda sad after they hang out. Maybe they’re talking about you. Not that talking about you is sad! Mom and Mendel talk about you all the time, they say it’s better to do that, and even Dad does, sometimes. 

“I don’t know. Sometimes it seems like there’s something they’re not telling me. The adults. I wish you were here. We were always honest with each other, right? Anyway. I hope you’re having a good birthday, wherever you are. I’m gonna ask Dad if he wants to play some baseball. I think you’d like that, huh? Baseball, I mean, not making Dad do something he hates. Although, that’s probably an even better way to celebrate your birthday. I’ll tell him that, if he whines about it. 

“There’s so much I wanna tell you, but I - I don't know. It's not the same, I guess. I hope you get this. I know that’s stupid, but. I do anyway. I love you. Bye, Whizzer.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're thinking, why so many voicemail messages? It's because Whizzer is a useless gay who never answers his phone. Signed, a useless gay who never answers her phone.


End file.
